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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012388">Your Voice Gave Me Chills</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancerInTheMoonlight/pseuds/DancerInTheMoonlight'>DancerInTheMoonlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alternate Seblaine [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Blaine Anderson-centric, Bullying, Caring Sebastian Smythe, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Halloween, Hate Crimes, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Paranormal, Romantic Friendship, Scary, Sebastian Smythe Being a Jerk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:07:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancerInTheMoonlight/pseuds/DancerInTheMoonlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Blaine shuddered as he sharply turned his head. No. This wasn’t happening, not now, when he’d had an entire two weeks without incident. Not when he’d finally settled into his new school and where he finally wasn’t hearing voices that were not there."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaine Anderson &amp; Sebastian Smythe, Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alternate Seblaine [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Your Voice Gave Me Chills</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wanted some scary Halloween fluff. So. </p><p>All insults belong to FOX and Glee's very own Santana Lopez (sry guys, I just didn't feel like coming up with my own next to perfectly good, existing ones... plus, Seb/Tana is kind of a dual entity at this point).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>You're not crazy</em>, Blaine Anderson thought to himself.</p><p>He'd woken up early on Halloween morning to a dead quiet house. Looking out his kitchen window, Blaine was greeted by an unusual sight. Outside, early snow covered the ground, about three inches of the white stuff was layered all over their front lawn. That, however, was not the surprising part.</p><p>What Blaine found undeniably unusual was a set of footprints leading up the driveway and into the house. They weren’t dog-prints, even though the Andersons owned a beautiful Belgian Malinois, who was very keen on Blaine and who was currently seated by his side, impatient for him to finish his tea and take her for a walk.</p><p>The footprints were human.</p><p>Only, Blaine was alone in the house.</p><p>Blaine came home early for the holiday weekend but his parents left yesterday morning to settle some issue with their old property in Lima and told him they'd be back by Sunday. It was just two nights. Blaine could do it, he was seventeen, now.</p><p>
  <em>“Are you sure you’ll be ok, honey?” his mother asked yet again, turning around to glance at Blaine, one foot reluctantly stepping through the doorway. His father was already at the car. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Leave him be, Pam, he’s seventeen for Pete’s sake!” he said, opening the door to the driver’s side. “He’ll be fine. But we’ll be late if we don’t get going,” he threw them a pointed look and slipped inside the car. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He’s right, don’t worry about me,” Blaine told his mother. “It’s only two nights. Besides, I’ll have Callie.” He nodded his head at the dog in question who was currently running back and forth all over the driveway, confused so as to why they weren’t all getting into the car together. After a final, intense once-over, his mother sighed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ok. Call me if you need anything.” Blaine nodded. She gave him a menacing look. “I mean it, sweetheart.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I will.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His father sat on the car horn, which made them all jump. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Go,” Blaine laughed as he pushed his mother gently towards the car, shaking his head at his parents’ antics. He whistled for the dog before he went back inside. </em>
</p><p>Counting backwards in his head, Blaine let out a heavy breath.</p><p>There was no sign of another set of footprints, leading away from the house. And Blaine wasn’t expecting anyone.</p><p>He was home alone on a Saturday morning, nearly a month into moving form Lima to Westerville. There were rooms that still needed some furnishing. They didn’t even have a doorbell yet. Blaine didn’t even have friends to call over, even if he wanted to.</p><p>He peeked at the vacant porch, mulling it over. Maybe someone just took a wrong (drunken?) turn and then . . . retraced their steps backwards?</p><p>“<strong>And <em>maybe</em> you’re thinking too much.</strong>”</p><p>Blaine shuddered as he sharply turned his head. No. This wasn’t happening, not now, when he’d had an entire two weeks without incident. Not when he’d finally settled into his new school and where he finally <em>wasn’t</em> hearing voices <em>that were not there</em>.</p><p>“<em>Ten, nine, eight</em> . . .” his therapist said that, whenever he found himself hearing voices, he should bring all of his attention to something else, like counting backwards. Only, Blaine hadn’t been hearing voic<em>es</em>. He tried to explain that multiple times, but to no avail. It was just the one, just a <em>single</em> voice, whispering things into Blaine’s ear, things like snarky comments and sarcastic quips and face-warming flatteries, which were progressively shameless as of late, and <em>even</em> some actual, decent advice.</p><p>So it was not just some generic ‘voice.’ Blaine felt like he <em>knew</em> the guy it belonged to, by now. Because it was definitely a male voice. And that’s about all personal information that Blaine had gathered. Well that, and that it had a shamelessly straightforward streak. The Voice was just so. . . Out there.</p><p>What his therapist didn’t know, though, was the fact that Blaine had a history of hearing the said voice sometimes before. It wasn’t too frequent an occurrence, at first. His parents dismissed it as an imaginary friend phase and, hell, Blaine himself believed he had only imagined it when it went on radio silence right before his freshman year at high school, when his brother finally moved away for college. Blaine always did have a vivid imagination.</p><p>But halfway into his freshman year, the Voice had suddenly returned. It had been even snarkier than Blaine remembered and a lot more lewd. What is more, it kept commenting on people Blaine was passing daily at McKinley halls, and nine out of ten comments were exceptionally creative, but less than nice.</p><p>
  <em> “<strong>Weren't roller rinks outlawed in, like, 1981 for being totally lame?</strong>” it asked when Blaine suggested something retro for the Glee club.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or when somebody complained about having duet partners: “<strong>How can you do a duet by yourself? That's like vocal masturbation.</strong>” Blaine choked on air and had to pretend he had a coughing fit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There is no way I'm playing a transvestite in high heels and fishnets and wearing lipstick,” one of the Glee members at McKinley High exclaimed, indignant. They were actually considering putting on Rocky Horror at that point. “<strong>Why, cause that look was last season?</strong>” the Voice wondered in Blaine’s ear and he had to press his lips together to contain the sounds threatening to escape. “I like that picture,” Blaine said. “<strong>Me too, actually</strong>.” That’s how he found out the Voice had actual preferences. </em>
</p><p>There were always those remarks on the go, like when Blaine was walking down the hallway:               </p><p>
  <em>“. . . flex my pec, and I say to the guy: ‘Leggo my Eggo.’ And you know what he does? He lets go of my Eggo!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>This guy should be the nation’s president.</strong>”</em>
</p><p>Or:</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>Your Spanish teacher belongs in a twelve step program. Clearly, he is addicted to vests.</strong>”</em>
</p><p>Blaine couldn’t help but laugh or quip back sometimes, which earned him more than a couple of weird looks. Then the Voice began to comment on boys.</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>Oh my god. Everything about this guy screams ‘virgin’,</strong>” the Voice had observed even on his second day of school, when Blaine was being welcomed by a tall guy who was assigned to show him around. “<strong>He’s about as sexy as a Cabbage Patch Kid. It's exhausting to look at.</strong>”</em>
</p><p>Or:</p><p>“<strong><em>An a capella choir from the all-boys private school? Okay, hold up. Like, a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head.</em></strong>”</p><p>It wasn’t that Blaine hadn’t noticed his own attraction to the male members of the population. He just didn’t feel <em>that</em> comfortable advertising it. (And he already couldn’t resist an occasional bowtie.)</p><p><em>“<strong>That carousel horse sweater makes The Loud One look like an institutionalized toddler</strong></em>,” the Voice comments on Blaine’s fellow Glee club member’s fashion choice. “<strong><em>And your hideous bowties are provoking me.</em></strong><em>” </em></p><p>
  <em>“Why are you always so rude?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>I just try to be really, really honest with people when I think that they suck! You know? No one gets it.</strong>” The Voice sounded like it was pouting. “<strong>Not that you suck, though, Killer. But your bowties kinda do.</strong>”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My bowties aren’t hideous,” Blaine scoffed under his breath. “Or provocative.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>Well they seem to be provoking the guy who looks like a cheesy 80’s high school movie villain over there</strong>.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Stop it.” </em>
</p><p><em>“<strong>I think he’s what I’d call a late in life gay. He’s going to stay in the closet, get married, get drunk to have relations with his wife, have a couple kids, maybe become a state senator or something like that and then get caught in the men's room tapping his foot with some page. . .</strong></em>”</p><p>
  <em>Blaine just shook his head and walked to class in the other direction.</em>
</p><p>And that’s when the bullying had started.</p><p>It began subtle, just a shove against the lockers in passing, or an ‘accidental’ trip-up on the stairs. Then there were slushies. Then there were muttered insults and it wasn’t long before there were shouted ones, every time he passed his offenders.</p><p>Then he got cornered outside by the bleachers and verbally threatened. Well, he got assaulted as well, seeing as the guy who threatened him actually tried to kiss him by the end of it. He managed to get away. He’d never heard the Voice be so outrageously insulting as it was that day.</p><p>The guy who had assaulted him mysteriously fell down a small flight of stairs the next day. Blaine had an uneasy feeling about it. Luckily, he only sprained his wrist a little.</p><p>Blaine somehow managed to get through most of the year. The Voice was there, more often than not, to keep him company and lift his sinking spirits. Sometimes, Blaine caught himself wishing his Voice had a body attached to it. Wished his friend (because he had admitted to himself that their relationship was friendly <em>at worst</em>) was more than just words in his head.</p><p>And then.</p><p>Then there was the school dance. Blaine thought he’d gathered enough courage to actually go with someone, even as friends.</p><p>They met up at the entrance.</p><p>The Voice genuinely complimented his looks, advising Blaine on a hair style, even though it had been coming across as somewhat testy all day. Blaine had decided to trust the Voice with the advice, and it seemed pleased.</p><p>They danced and Blaine had had fun with a couple of people he could now call his crowd.</p><p>They didn’t kiss or anything like that. They just had a good time. The Voice wanted to know when the wedding was and if Blaine would now become excruciatingly boring, as all monogamous people in a devoted relationship were. He just laughed, letting himself be free.</p><p>And in the dark of William McKinley parking lot, face bleeding into the damp concrete, Blaine still found himself with broken dreams and a broken arm.</p><p>The Voice had never sounded so loud and scared and incoherent as it had that night.</p><p>When the ambulance took him, it almost looked like it had been a levelled fight. Blaine couldn’t wrap his head around it. In any case, he transferred.</p><p>“<strong>What’s with the counting?</strong>”</p><p>“. . . <em>seven, six, five .</em> . .” Blaine continued, louder.</p><p>His first week at Dalton had been pretty uneventful. Everyone had been really friendly, showing him around and making sure he got to the right classroom at the right time. They even mentioned he should come and see about their glee club. (The one which the Voice had crafted so many unspoken gay jokes about.) It made Blaine feel like the new kid, but not in an unpleasant way. He could feel people looking at him with interest, but it wasn’t a hostile one. It was definitely a new feeling.</p><p>He thought he spotted one particular student staring at him on more than one occasion, but whenever he tried to ask about that person, nobody seemed to know who Blaine was talking about. And even so, Blaine had yet to learn all his fellow classmates’ names. After a solid couple of weeks, October was coming to an end and so was the novelty of the new kid who transferred one month into the trimester. Blaine was still curious about this random person who still watched him, if anything, with growing interest, but the guy wasn’t in any of Blaine’s classes and he seemed to just disappear into the crowd without a trace whenever Blaine actually gathered some courage and deemed it a good moment to walk up to him and say hi.</p><p>“. . . <em>four, three, two, one</em>.”</p><p>Everything was great. Except for the Voice.</p><p>“You are <em>not</em> crazy,” Blaine repeated out loud, staring at the trail of footprints outside.</p><p>“<strong>Neither are you,</strong>” the Voice said and Blaine grit his teeth. The dog’s ears twitched.</p><p>“Come on, Callie.” It was high time for that walk.</p><p> </p><p>Blaine fell asleep in the living room that afternoon, after a game of catch in in the yard with Callie. He’d made sure to sweep the footprints away when he got back earlier.</p><p>Blaine jerked awake, disturbed by the unpleasant feeling of someone watching him. He looked around, startled.</p><p>The night had already fallen outside. Glancing at the window, Blaine noticed a silhouette standing outside the dark window. He got up to look closer, but the closer he got, the farther the figure seemed to be. There was something standing behind it. Blaine realized it was his dog. Bacall looked tense and only when she barked her deep resounding bark did Blaine realize his perception had been completely wrong.</p><p>Callie was in the room with him.</p><p>Which meant Blaine was looking at <em>reflections</em>.</p><p>His spine stiffened as his eyes, unbidden, searched for a face on the blurry humanoid figure whose features were unclear and not really distinguishable in his living room window.</p><p>Then Callie barked once more, advancing towards it and Blaine’s eyes lost their focus. When he turned around, there was no one there.</p><p>“Just you and me, girl,” Blaine took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Against every rational thought he kinda wished the Voice was there to restore some of his confidence.</p><p>Taking Callie out one last time later on after dinner, he contemplated going to bed early. The Voice had been blissfully quiet since that morning, even though Blaine had been secretly aching for company since the Reflections Incident. Blaine had convinced himself it had been his post-sleep haze.</p><p>Readying himself for bed, Callie by his side, of course, he turned off the television and went upstairs, but not before double checking all the locks. He just wasn’t in the mood for anything scary tonight.</p><p>“<strong>Not even some gothic prose?</strong>”</p><p>Blaine jumped about a metre high in the middle of his bedroom.</p><p>“Just—go away!” was the first thing he said. More like, yelled. “Actually, no! Where <em>were</em> you? What is up with your stupid, <em>stupid</em> comments and then making yourself scarce just when I have nothing better to do?”</p><p>“<strong>You were <em>counting</em>, Killer.</strong>” The Voice sounded bored.</p><p>“I—my therapist—you know what?” Blaine threw back the covers and angrily slipped into bed. “I don’t have to explain it to you. <em>You’re not real</em>. And I am <em>not</em> crazy. And I am <em>not</em> scared. So good night.” He tucked himself in but, however, did not put in an effort to turn off the lights.</p><p>“<strong>Is there something to be scared of?</strong>” the Voice asked, sounding a little smug.</p><p>Blaine just wished he would stop hallucinating because he did not want to be dependent on anti-psychotic meds before even reaching the legal age.</p><p>“<strong>You’re not crazy, Killer</strong>.”</p><p>“You are a hallucination, so go. Away.” Blaine chanted under his breath, even though he liked the company. The Voice was familiar. Like an old friend. “Go away, go away.”</p><p>“<strong>I’ll prove it to you. Look at your dog.</strong>”</p><p>Blaine opened his eyes and turned his head to the side, where Callie had claimed a spot on the floor.</p><p>“<strong>Yo, dog!</strong>” the Voice said and, jumping to her feet, Callie whined and then started barking in earnest. “<strong>See? She knows I’m here.</strong>”</p><p>“Stop scaring her!” Blaine snapped, even though he himself felt uneasy. The dog calmed down but was looking around warily.</p><p>“What do you want from me?” Blaine felt like he had to ask. He now had an inclination, however small it was, that the Voice he’d been hearing wasn’t all in his head. And he found it a little terrifying. To not be crazy and still hear what no one else apparently can. <em>For five years</em>.</p><p>“<strong>What do <em>I</em> <em>want</em>?</strong>” unexpectedly, the Voice scoffed a little. “<strong>Killer, you summoned <em>me</em>. I’m just here for the ride.</strong>”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>“<strong>What I just said.</strong>”</p><p>“What do you mean, I ‘summoned’ you?”</p><p>“<strong>You wanted someone around. I happened to be passing by.</strong>” If the Voice had a body attached to it, Blaine figured it would have been shrugging. Blaine had wanted someone around, but an actual <em>person</em>, someone who is not his dog, and not an imaginary friend, who actually turned out to be a fucking <em>actual</em> ghost!</p><p>“Wh—I—” he choked on his words for a couple of seconds. “This has got to stop,” he finally said into the not-so-empty room.</p><p>“<strong>You’re the one who wanted a friend! And don’t pretend you don’t think of me as one.</strong>”</p><p>“Well, yes, an <em>actual person</em>,” Blaine said, exasperated, startling Callie, who turned to look at him. “Not—this! I can’t go on talking to myself like this. Everyone already treats me like I’m going to break down any moment.” It was true. Since the school dance incident, Blaine felt like everyone who knew about it were tiptoeing around him. It was driving him mad. And what was driving him madder, was that he wanted this fucked-up, paranormal friendship so bad. Because it sometimes felt more solid than anything else he had in life. It was so hard to let go.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I have to let this go. I want to be your friend, but not like this. I want to be friends with someone real.”</p><p>Someone <em>corpo</em>real. It hurt him to say it but it was the truth. Had been for a while now.</p><p>There was a long silence and Blaine thought his phantom friend may have disappeared on him again. Then he spoke up again.</p><p>“<strong>You’re really sure about this?</strong>” The Voice sounded wistful, but somehow determined, as well.</p><p>“. . .yes.”</p><p>“<strong>You want to be friends with someone real?</strong>”</p><p>“Y-yes?” Blaine couldn’t see where this was heading.</p><p>“<strong>You’ve picked a good time to say it, then.</strong>” Blaine didn’t know how this was a good time to say it, but didn’t ask, either. “<strong>I’ll let you be. I just need you to do something for me first.</strong>” Blaine’s trepidation must have shown on his face because the voice spoke up, around what Blaine imagined was a fond smile. “<strong>Nothing scary, I promise.</strong>”</p><p>And it wasn’t. Feeling a little silly, Blaine took some kitchen salt and made a small circle on his bedroom floor where the Voice directed him, just enough for a person to stand inside it. He then walked around it nine times, anti-clockwise and feeling only a little silly.</p><p>“<strong>That’s it, nothing scary.</strong>” The Voice encouraged. “<strong>Now for the last bit</strong>.”</p><p>There were words to be spoken at the end.</p><p>Blaine took a bit of salt in his left hand and threw it across the circle.</p><p>“I release you from my bonds. Let yourself be free.”</p><p>“<strong><em>You too.</em></strong>” The Voice sounded like it was coming from far away now. “<strong><em>Goodbye, Killer.</em></strong>”</p><p>Callie barked once. And then there was silence.</p><p>Collapsing on the bed, exhausted, Blaine fell asleep like the dead. Just before going under, he realized he’d never even learned his name.</p><p> </p><p>On Sunday morning Blaine was woken by three solid knocks on his bedroom door.</p><p>“Honey! We’re home,” his mother peered around it to greet him with a smile. There were tracks of salt just hidden by the open door. “We decided to head back early. Come down for some Hallow breakfast! Dad’s taking Callie for a walk.”</p><p>Getting out of bed, Blaine opened the windows wide and let the cold November air in.</p><p>*</p><p>Epilogue:</p><p>On Monday, Blaine felt like a new man. He walked into Dalton campus with a new-found spring in his step, feeling only a little wistful and nostalgic for the unending stream of ironic commentary he’d been so used to hearing at this point. The classes went swimmingly. He felt driven and focused.</p><p>So much so that on Tuesday, he finally decided to check out the Dalton Glee club, see what the hype was all about. He had been in the Glee club at McKinley, but compared to Dalton, that looked like a club of impromptu jamming sessions which happened about twice a year. The Warblers looked like <em>professionals</em>.</p><p>Wide eyed, Blaine stared at the ongoing performance of “Uptown Girl” nodding politely at some of the familiar faces he recognized from his classes, while they smiled at him, dancing and casually fooling around the room – because apparently this was some <em>casual</em> fun for the Warblers.</p><p>And then, suddenly, he was being pulled towards them, not by Nick, who was among the few guys he recognized, but by a complete stranger. The said stranger was beaming at him like he’d just seen the sun, and his voice—when he opened his mouth, his voice gave Blaine chills.</p><p>Blaine couldn’t help but say so, immediately after the song ended and Nick (who was his roommate and therefore had inevitably heard Blaine sing in the shower) clapped him on the back, expressing how delighted he was that Blaine wanted to join them. Blaine nodded, but had his eyes mostly on the tall guy whose voice gave him chills, thinking he looked somehow familiar. Or maybe Blaine was just heavily impressed by his performance.</p><p>“Your voice—” Blaine said “—it gave me chills. A-are you a freshman?”</p><p>The boy just lifted his eyebrows, keeping a straight face, no trace of that blinding smile from before. Blaine gulped, thinking the question might have somehow offended him.</p><p>“Do I <em>look</em> like a freshman?” the retorted, and hearing him speak made Blaine want to sit down. Feeling his mouth fall open, Blaine thought he might actually faint, which would have been <em>horribly</em> embarrassing. Because it was <em>him</em>. <em>The Voice</em>. Blaine’s Voice.</p><p>The Voice was tall and carried his lithe frame with casual grace, and he had chestnut hair and green eyes and a smirk <em>just</em> like Blaine had always imagined it. And the Voice could sing. And it gave Blaine chills.</p><p>Luckily, the Voice must have noticed Blaine was close to falling over, because he extended a hand, the said smirk gracing his features.</p><p>“Blaine Anderson,” he said by way of introduction, and it was fortunate because Blaine could hardly remember how to hold on to a hand, let alone his name. “Sebastian Smythe. Nice to finally meet you.”</p><p>“Hi,” Blaine managed. The smirk softened into something more intimate.</p><p>“<em>Hello</em>, Killer.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Also, I seem to love give Blaine dogs and name them after Hollywood stars. 'Callie', officially known but never really addressed as: Bacall, is named after the superb Lauren Bacall, and -- you've guessed it! -- it's due to her elegant muzzle and her deep, resounding bark! :D <br/>(*I just realized they're essentially Blaine's bitches, ha ha ha) </p><p>P.S. there are quite a few motifs to do with Halloween superstitions thrown in here: the (lack of a) doorbell, looking into a dark mirror-like surface, confronting the paranormal &amp; asking it to go away, salt, circles, anti-clockwise circling, calling out to announce your presence when entering a haunted house, three knocks on the door... I just wanted to point out there's actual meaning behind it. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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